Rebirth of a Soul
by liondancer17
Summary: Two decades after the great war a young girl named Amelia Jones is discovered to be the reborn Alfred Jones. However, she has no memory, and she isn't Alfred..and the memories she starts to get aren't the ones she wants. Epilouge to Recreate my Soul. Belame yuri
1. Chapter 1

A/N

This is an epilogue fic to Emo Vampire Chic's "Recreate My Soul", which is an amazing fic that ALL OF YOU SHOULD READ!

It takes place 20 years after the war, so all of the nations have mostly recovered, and Amelia is now 19. She has no memory of her past life

Disclaimer: I don't own "Recreate My Soul", or Hetalia.

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(Amelia's POV)

Ever since she was a child, Amelia F. Jones (The "F" officially stands for "Faith", though Amelia prefers "Freedom") always dreamt of flying.

Maybe it was just because every child dreams of flying, but it always felt different. She was flying in a 30's airplane, goggles over her eyes, and a scarf tight around her neck. It was the most amazing feeling in the world, incomparable to the tight, closed planes of today. She could feel the chilling bite of the wind, the thrill of her tiny cabin dipping and soaring and weaving through the clouds. It was heaven, she was an avenging angel, soaring over the world, and setting it free.

Because of this, Amelia decided that her destiny was to fly. She would join the airforce and become a thunderbird, she would fly around the world, aviator jacket over her shoulders, and the wind at her side.

Amelia never quite thought that she was the same as the other children she grew up with. She always felt...old, like a woman trapped in a little girl's body. Little things struck a chord in her heart, like hearing a child's laughter, or the sound of a piano playing. There were flickers of things that passed by her eyes, shadows she could never quite get a hold of. It was ridiculous, really, the way she reacted to things that happened before she was born.

In seventh grade, she was told to write a historical fiction about the Revolutionary War.

Amelia wasn't sure how it happened, but she ended up writing an essay (in pen) dozens of pages long about how it happened, down to every single battle, and all of the inner turmoil of a sixteen year old boy called Alfred Jones. Her teacher, though she gave an A plus, was confused. Amelia ended up being sent to her counselor, as well as an IQ test, and her parents and History teacher had a very, very long talk about the things that Amelia shouldn't be seeing on TV.

She was also questioned about why, exactly, the last few pages were runny. Amelia said it was because she spilled a glass of water on her essay. After all, she would only be evaluated more if she admitted she was sobbing by the time she finally put her pen down.

In ninth grade, freshman year, she entered French Class, and World History. She tested out of French 1, and ended up in French 2, where it was realized by both her and her teacher that Amelia already knew how to speak it. She was transferred to several other language classes, Spanish, German, Italian, and even Russian, however, in all of them she discovered that she knew the language as soon as she looked at the paper.

Not only that, but for some reason, the words brought back those strange shadows in the corner of her mind. She almost broke down in tears when she saw the Cryllic alphabet, but she had no idea _why._ It made no sense, she didn't know anyone who spoke Russian. Why did she feel angry and sad and guilty all at once?

In World History, though, was where all the strangeness happened.

When they discussed World War Two, as soon as they got to the Holocaust, Amelia slammed her hands on the table, and yelled "It's not his fault! No one knew what that bastard was doing! Don't blame Germany, it's not his fault!" earning strange looks from everyone. It was only then that Amelia realized that she had been reffering to the German Federation as a _person, _so she quietly sat back down at apologized.

At the Rape of Nanjing, she teared up again while they watched the movie, and she saw a boy broken and crying, in her arms, begging for help. For some reason, she knew exactly what he was saying, and she immediately knew who he was...though she didn't, at the same time. She couldn't even stay in the room when they were discussing the atom bomb, she felt so sick, like she was going to vomit.

She was just so...tired. She felt old and broken sometimes, in the way that an old, old soul would. She felt like she was missing something, something important, something that left a gaping hole in her chest. She was just so _tired_, and she didn't know what she was searching for, but...but she needed it, she needed something. She was so...tired.

She wanted to fly.

After Amelia finished high school, she joined the Air Force, and began learning how to be a pilot. Rising in the ranks, she joined the thunderbirds, and began putting on air shows.

It wasn't how she imagined, though. She didn't feel the wind or the cold, but it felt amazing all the same.

Bursting from the cabin door, and laughing with a wide smile and blazing eyes, was when she met him. She saw a boy with messy, dark blonde hair and green eyes peeking out from black caterpillars stuck to his face, staring right at her. Figuring he was just awed from her flying skills, she walked over and stuck out her hand, adjusting her scarf with the other, and smiling at him. He didn't move, and instead continued to stare, his eyes almost bugging out of his caterpillar-covered face.

Amelia laughed.

"Amazed at my awesome flying skills, aren't ya? I'm Amelia Jones, at your service!" she chimed, falling into the natural salute. Caterpillar-man blinked, and she swore she saw him mouthing the word 'America'.

"Arthur Kirkland...do...you know me?" he asked, looking up at her with wide eyes. Amelia blinked and tilted her head.

"No, I don't remember you at all...do you know me? I mean, I am a thunderbird, so maybe you've heard my name before. If so, it's awesome to meet a fan!" Amelia replied, practically yelling the last few words in excitement.

"Yes, that must be it...can I get a picture?" Arthur asked, still in a dazed state. Amelia nodded and smiled while Arthur took a picture with his phone, then he gave a curt nod, and walked away.

"I'll see you again soon!" Amelia yelled after him, before he vanished out of sight.

That night, she dreamt of rain, a crying man, and lots of red.

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A/N Please review guys~!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

And a new chapter! W00t! I hope you guys enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Recreate My Soul, or Hetalia.

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(Belarus's POV)

To be honest, she had no idea why she ever came her. It was pointless, really. Pointless, stupid, and idiotic. It wasn't as if anything was going to happen, it wasn't as if he was ever coming back...

No.

She wasn't going there.

Not now.

"Can I take your order, ma'am?" A sweet, cheerful voice asked. Something about it made Natalya freeze, and she looked up.

Standing before her was a girl. Short, wavy blonde hair hung to her shoulders, and shone in the light of the small restaurant. Two red stars were clipped into her hair, one beside each of her wide, lively, innocent blue eyes. Her skin was sun-kissed, freckles dotting her cheeks and nose. Her full, pink lips were split into a wide grin, a smile that radiated as bright as the sun.

So...familiar.

There was no way...besides, this was a girl, and he wasn't coming back. He left her, and wasn't coming back.

But...still...she was so much like him, it almost hurt to see her. She wasn't him, though, and...and she never would be him! She wasn't like him at all! She was...just an imitation! She was..

so...much...like him...

"Hello?" the girl asked, waving her hand in front of Belarus's face. Natalya blinked, and she felt a slight blush stain her pale cheeks. It was only then that she realized that she had been staring at the girl.

"I-I apologize...I was thinking...I...would like some raspberry tea, please." Belarus replied, fighting down the insistent blush. The girl laughed, sitting down in the chair across from Belarus.

"It's okay. Truth be told, I don't even work here. I just thought you'd like some company." the girl replied. "My name is Amelia Jones. You?" she asked, smiling at the Belarusian.

Natalya's breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to breath. Just a coincidence.

She wasn't him.

She never would be him.

"Natalya Arvloskya." Belarus replied. Amelia's eyes got wide and shone with excitement.

"Ah~! That's so cool! And so pretty! I hate my name, it's so old, but yours! It's so pretty!" Amelia cheered, leaning across the table, her arms stretched out towards the Belarusian. Natalya noticed, with another blush, that Amelia was wearing a white, button-up shirt that she tied up, just beneath her breasts. However, the movement pushed her breast mostly out of the shirt...

Natalya didn't like girls...but even she felt her cheeks get warm. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat at the sight, biting her lip.

Stupid summer sun, making her warm and uncomfortable...

"Do you have a job?" Amelia asked, peering up curiously at Belarus. Natalya immediately regained her composure, clearing her throat.

"Yes, I am an...ambassador for Belarus." she replied. It was odd, talking about herself in third person like that.

Amelia's eyes widened and glowed.

"Soooooooooooooooo coooooooooooooool! Wow, I meet a celebrity just by heading to a restaurant! Wooooooow, you're amazing!" Amelia chirped, sitting up and smiling widely.

Belarus couldn't help but notice the way Amelia's breasts bounced when she moved quickly...did she even wear a bra?

(No...she hadn't been staring! How could someone ever reach such a conclusion?!)

"You're too kind." Natalya said politely. Amelia's eyes shone.

"And so nice~! Hey, want my number? Lunch break is almost over." Amelia offered. Natalya didn't reply, and Amelia took out a pen, scribbling her number onto it.

"Call me~!" The American cried out, running out of the restaurant.

Natalya took a sip of her water.

That wasn't him, not anywhere near close.

But...

Why did she feel so warm?

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A/N I know this is short, but please review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N

Okay, I know it has been forever since I updated, but here we go! This is something that Emo Vampire Chic put in my head, and how I would imagine Amelia and Natalya to get along at first.

By the way, whenever Natalya says '_him'_, she means America. I know it can get a tad repetitive and annoying, but it's necessary. It hurts her too much to say his name.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Three paragraphs are copied directly from 'Recreate My Soul', you'll know which ones they are.

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(Natalya's POV)

She hated Amelia.

Natalya had already decided that, in the short amount of time that she knew Amelia, she hated her. That girl was just so..._disgusting._ She was so_ shameless_, so _stupid_, so _fake! _Natalya had seen right through that bitch..she was nothing like him. She was a faker, and imitator. Even worse, that girl already had the entire world fooled. That girl and her stupid, fake, disgusting smile. Natalya hated her. She was **not**_ him. _She was painful to be around. She looked like him, but she wasn't. She was fake. She was fake, and disgusting, and Natalya wouldn't let herself be swept up in the idea that the bitch was **anything **like _him_.

_Him_..._America..._

Natalya glared across the meeting table, her eyes boring into England. It was his fault...his and the other colonizers. Without them, _he _wouldn't have had that fucking sword..._he_ would still be alive. She wasn't going to declare war, of course. But...but he had to pay. Somehow...she would make Arthur, Francis, and the other colonizers pay for causing _his _death.

It was all their fault...she could still see his eyes when _he _tried to make her his_. _His eyes had been so cold, so empty, so dark...like one of his servants It wasn't _him _that held her and admitted that he had always found her beautiful. Those eyes had belonged to a monster that possessed him. It wasn't the same man who had taken her dancing when she missed her brother...it wasn't the same man who had bought her countless flowers and rings and necklaces, just because she was sad. It wasn't the one person in the world who saw her as more than a creepy, crazy psychopath...it wasn't the one who saved her from killing herself because Brother screamed and yelled at her that he would never love her, that no one would **ever **love her, and that she was insane and scary and that she should just go kill herself for trying to severely hurt Yao...

_Ny, _the man that tried to hurt them all was not _him._

Natalya clenched her hands tighter, her pale fingers biting into her palms, almost enough to draw blood. It was all their fault that this happened...that that filthy, _disgusting bitch _was claiming to be _him._ It was all their fault...if it wasn't for them, if it wasn't for them...someone would finally love her!_  
_

Belarus bit her lip. Stupid, stupid, _filthy _girl. Belarus hated her. She wasn't _him,_ she never would be _him, _and she would never, ever love Belarus.

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(Amelia's POV)

_..Japan, with his katana through his chest, China with a bullet hole between his eyes, Russia's limp lifeless body burning in a fire, France, with all of his limbs ripped off, as he bled to death…and Britain, I couldn't bear to see Britain, I tried to push her away I tried to block the picture but I couldn't. There he was his closed ripped as blood seeped out of them, the blood forming a small puddle under him as he was hung by a rope from a tree, I saw that the rope was just a tightly tied up America flag..._

_...The pictures continued to show faster and faster, it became easier to watch each time. In fact I began to like it. No, no, what am I thinking they are my friends? But it would be so easy to kill them, not to mention it would make mother happy. No, no! What is happening to me? I felt the hero in me begin to fade, as I started to lose myself in this so called magic..._

_..."I'd never be one with someone like you, you are a murderer, you go around hurting people, and you are pathetic!" she said, her words dripping with venom. I laughed; I had expected this much from her. That is why I had found her so interesting; she seemed so hard to break..._

_...As I heard Canada's cry out, as I heard his voice, I could feel myself soak up his pain. A smile spread across my face as the blood lust grew. I swung my sword, and like before he went to evade it but of course there was no way he would be able to move with such quickness for at least a few more minutes. I hit him right in his leg, and he let out another cry I saw as his pants ripped where my sword had hit, and blood began to drip out. Yes, blood, blood, more blood I wanted more blood, I attacked again and he attempted to block but I hit him right in his arm, his clothes ripped again and more blood showed. Blood, blood, more, more, more! I laughed as I saw the crimson liquid drip out. He was bleeding like the fucking weak ass he was! I laughed exhilarated. I felt the warm smell of blood waft through the air to me as I breathed it in. I loved it smell, it always came right before my favorite… the smell of death, the greatest scent in the world..._

Amelia shot straight up in bed, hands clasped tight to her head, tears dripping from her eyes. She realized that her chest was heaving, and she then realized that her heart hurt. It felt like she was having trouble breathing...it felt like her very soul was being ripped from her chest. Amelia rested her forehead against her knees, hands shaking, trying to get her heart to start again. It hurt. It hurt so, so much.

A few of those people...she recognized them. The man with the green eyes, the one who had taken her picture. That girl...the girl who yelled at Amelia, that was Natalya. Amelia squeezed her palms against her ears, her small shoulders trembling, and her eyes burning again. What were those images...? Why, why was she seeing them?

And why...why in her dream, did she like them?

Amelia threw off the sheets, stumbling to her window and ripping it open, poking her head into the fresh air. She dropped her face in her hands, still pale and shaking.

Why did she feel like this? Like it was her fault?

Outside, on the military base, the star-spangled banner began to play.

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A/N Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N

Back again! I suppose you can call this my fluffy day. I hope you don't mind all the updates! XD

Disclaimer: Recreate My Soul belongs to Emo Vampire Chic. Hetalia belongs to Himuraya.

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(Amelia's POV)

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the American girl took a deep breath to attempt to steady herself. This was so stupid. So, so stupid. She barely knew this Arthur guy, yet she was going to his house!

Amelia bit her lip as she shifted from foot to foot, attempting to get herself to calm down. This...this didn't feel right. Amelia nervously played with her fingers, and she took a deep breath, hesitantly knocking on the door.

Before a second passed, the door flew open, and Amelia found herself trapped in a hug. The American girl felt herself tense up.

..._A man holding her, hand pressed over her mouth, arm wrapped tight around her waist, gun pressed to her back. High pitched screams, shouting, hurt, so, so much pain, why wasn't it stopping...?_

"N-no! No! Let me go!" Amelia screamed, thrashing around and pushing the person off of her. She heard a thud as a body hit concrete, and Amelia bit her lip, trying to get herself back under control.

"I-I'm sorry!" she apologized quickly, stammering over her words. It was only then that she was able to see clearly.

It was Arthur, of course. He was slumped over, his hand holding his head. Amelia ran over to him, kneeling by his side.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she apologized again and again. Arthur shook his head and offered her a weak smile, one green eye shut, with his hand pressed over it.

"It's okay, I'm fine, I should have warned you." The Brit replied. Amelia took a deep breath, chewing on her lip in worry.

"I'm sorry..."

"Stop, it's fine, it's fine." The Brit said again, standing up. He brushed himself off, adjusting his clothes. Amelia couldn't laugh as she noticed the fact that the Brit was wearing a bow tie. She thought that was just a joke...they didn't seriously wear bow ties, did they? Only the doctor could get away with that! Who was this guy?

'_Heehee..."doctor" and "who" in the same thought...' _Amelia thought, laughing at herself. It was ridiculous and immature to laugh at that, but she did anyway.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her. "What are you laughing at?" he asked. Amelia smiled.

"You're wearing a bow tie." Amelia replied, laughing. The Briton blinked, and a hesitant smile formed on his lips. Amelia couldn't help but give back a bright, happy smile.

"So? What's wrong with that? Bow-ties are cool." He replied, proudly adjusting the tie. Amelia cracked up.

"Whoovians for the win." She giggled. The Briton smiled, shaking his head and laughing. This, of course, caused the blonde girl to laugh all the harder.

_'He's so nice...unlike her...'_ Amelia thought to herself. Amelia frowned to herself as she thought of the beautiful girl. '_Natalya...'_

Amelia frowned to herself. She had tried to call the platinum blonde a few times. The second time she called, after several days of waiting for one call to be answered, the platinum blonde picked up. She screamed at Amelia that she never wanted to hear from the American girl again, and that she wanted to be left alone. She yelled that she _hated _Amelia, and that the American girl was a slut and a fake and that no one ever liked her.

Amelia chewed her lip. She had no idea why, but she felt drawn to the hauntingly beautiful girl. But...Amelia knew she didn't deserve someone like that.

After all this time, after so long of finally realizing what she deserved, Amelia wouldn't let herself do _that _again.

Fine. If Natalya wanted to hate her for no reason, then Amelia would let her.

"Amelia? Are you listening to me?" Arthur asked. The American girl blinked, looking at the Briton. She smiled.

"U-um, sorry, what did you say?" she asked. The Briton smiled.

"It's okay. Are you ready to know?" he asked. Amelia tilted her head.

"Know what?" she asked.

"The truth." The Briton replied.

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(Natalya's POV)

The Belarusian laid curled up on her bed, underneath the sheets. Resting in the palm of her hand was her cellphone. On it was two messages, both from the _fake_, the one who acted as if she was _him._

Message one: "Hey Natalya, it's me, Amelia! I was just wondering if we could hang out one time! Call me back when you feel like it, okay?"

Message two: "Oh...okay. I guess I won't bother you anymore. Um...bye..."

The Belarusian girl held the phone against her heart, listening to the messages again and again.

She hated that girl...how similar she was to..._him. _She _hated_ her.

She..._hated...her..._

She..wasn't him...

The Belarusian glared at the phone and stood up, brushing herself off. She wasn't weak; she wasn't stupid. She was strong.

And she _hated _that girl. She _hated _her, and she felt nothing more.

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A/N Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N

Okay, time for the moment that everyone's been waiting for, Amelia meeting nations! ^^ I hope you guys like it. I'm actually thinking of doing an AmeBela yaoi fic, if you guys like the idea. Not like the last one I did, but instead, one with a college and teacher/student relationship (both being over 18, of course) so if you guys like the idea, say so. ^^

Oh, by the way, just to be clear, Arthur called his children his little loves or his loves, which is why he uses that here. He has no sexual feelings for Amelia whatsoever.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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(Amelia's POV)

"So what's up, fan-of-mine?" Amelia asked, smiling. The Brit sat down on her guest couch, a cup of Earl Grey Tea in his lap. Amelia was sitting in her own chair, legs crossed tightly, with a cup of coffee in her hands.

Amelia was constantly on guard, always wound very tight. She liked wearing things like skirts and shorts, but she always wore shorts underneath skirts, and she usually wore cute leggings under her shorts, like pink tights or something. She wore crop-tops and belly shirts, but she always had her favorite bomber jacket, just in case she needed to close up fast. She liked to draw attention to herself, but she never let herself get too close. She had to be safe. She had to be secure.

She had to be _closed. _

"Well, I needed to see you, and ask you a very important question-" Arthur started, looking up at her. She noticed the hopeful glint in his eyes, and Amelia couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the Brit. He was sweet, he was nice, he even liked _Doctor Who_, like her, but she had to shut him down before he was led astray by simple kindness.

"Sorry hun, but no." Amelia replied, letting her southern accent slip a little into the gentle refusal.

"W-what?" Arthur stuttered, eyes widening. Amelia flinched at the hurt in his voice, but she had to be strong. She was too nice to lead him on, so she had to do this. Gentle, but strong.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Kirkland, but I can't. I'm just not like that, I'm not interested." It was true, of course. She had never been like that, ever since she first became aware of the way she looked at girls. She was simply not interested in men, no matter how hard she had tried to be. At first, it was upsetting being not normal, but she had gotten used to it.

After all, what was the use of trying to fit in, when it just wasn't who you were? To Amelia, it was better to stick out, then to be someone who you simply weren't.

"But Amelia, you have to! You just _have_ to! There's no way you can't, I _need _you!" Arthur cried out, his voice raising an octave. Amelia bit her lip. This was so...so _flattering_, but she couldn't. She couldn't lead the poor little Brit on. She had to stay strong and keep refusing.

"Mr. Kirkland, you're very nice, but-" Amelia started again, trying to keep from smiling. It would only make him mad if he thought she was taunting him by refusing.

"No buts! I am not taking no for an answer from you!" Arthur snapped. "I have waited long enough!" With that, the Brit stood up.

Instantly, adrenaline spiked in Amelia's veins, and she went into fighting mode. She felt her heart speed up, and she immediately stood up, the coffee mug almost shattering with how tight she was gripping it. Arthur stood up, and she could see him shaking with emotion, hurt in his eyes, as well as anger and impatience.

_No, no, no, no! _

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, voice almost raw with fear. She began taking steps back, though she kept her eyes on the Brit, tracking any sudden movements. There was a baseball bat near her door, in an umbrella rack. If she could get to it, she could knock the Briton out and call the police.

"Amelia, I don't want to hurt you! I just want you to come with me, okay?" he asked. She knew that he saw the fear in her eyes. Hell, he could probably _smell _it.

_They always smelled the fear._

"Don't. Touch. Me." she snarled, narrowing her eyes as she took another step back. The coffee mug was still hot. She could splash it in his eyes, momentarily blinding him, and most likely leaving a few burns if he moved again. She could smash the mug and use it as a sharp object if he attacked her while she made a run for the phone. A million scenarios such as this moved through her mind.

"Please, I don't want to hurt you! I just want to help you, love." he pleaded.

Amelia snapped.

"Don't call me that!" she screamed at him as she threw the mug. She barely registered his gasp of pain as she sprinted, grabbing her bat and her phone as she ran. She registered distant shouts, but she didn't care. She had to get away. She had to _get away!_

Shaking, the American girl fell to her knees, gasping as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart was still pounding hard, and she was still trembling with adrenaline.

"He's not going to hurt you, he's not going to find you. You're okay, Amelia. You're fine." she whispered to herself. She bit her lip, trying hard to fight back tears. It was okay, it was okay.

'_Please let it be okay...'_

After maybe twenty minutes passed, Amelia decided to go and check on her house again. If he was still there, she'd call the police. If he was gone, she'd call anyway, but at least she'd be able to get inside her own home.

While walking back, she watched a car pass with a Canadian license plate. It was a brief moment of amusement for her as she watched it pass. Why was there a Canadian here? She knew it was common for her northern neighbors to visit, but most of them did it by plane and stayed in hotels. Perhaps it was someone visiting family? She wondered briefly who it was.

The car pulled to a stop at a red light, and Amelia walked up to it, deciding to glance in the window, maybe waving to the driver.

It was like looking into a mirror. The only difference was that the driver wore glasses.

The driver stared back, wide-eyed, for a long time. It took several minutes for both to realize that there was a long line of cars honking behind them. Even then, the driver got out and stood in front of her, just staring.

"Who...are you?" Amelia asked.

"I'm your twin brother, Matthew." The boy replied. He spoke as if in a trance, unable to believe the sight. Amelia couldn't blame him, of course. She didn't believe it either.

"But...but I don't have any siblings. I'm an only child.." Amelia replied. Her voice was soft and weak, barely a protest.

Matthew held out his hand.

Amelia flinched.

"Everyone...we missed you..." he said. Amelia didn't understand any of what he was saying, of course, but...

"Please...we need you..."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you? What's going on?" she suddenly demanded, snapping out of whatever trance she had been put under by the sight of her twin. "Why the fuck is everyone trying to take me somewhere? Why are strange people talking to me? What the fuck is happening to me?" she asked, taking several steps back.

"I..you...you're the United States of America, the living personification of it! And I'm Canada!" Matthew suddenly said, his voice raising an octave in desperation.

Amelia shook her head, still shaking. This was crazy. _He_ was crazy!

"Get away from me! All of you! Everyone, just get away from me!" she screamed at him. She backed away from the crazy Canadian and into the sidewalk.

She bumped into someone who was several times taller than her. It was like bumping into a brick wall.

Amelia twisted around to fight, and met lavender eyes and light blonde hair.

She heard the phrase "I'm sorry" in a thick, Russian accent, before something solid hit the back of her head, and the American girl blacked out.

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A/N Please review!


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